


When it Happens

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel Feels [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Blood, Dean-Centric, Fights, Friendship/Love, Gore, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A theory on how Destiel finally becomes accepted canon on Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it Happens

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr asked me how I "realistically" thought Destiel would become canon. This was my answer:

**It would be the finale:**

 

> _The final scene would open at an abandoned warehouse, the boys disappearing inside. Moments later, crashes and gunfire would ring out, carrying on for a long while before the cameras switch and finally take a peek inside._
> 
>  

          Sam and Dean are at their wits end—this year’s _big-bad_ has run them through the gauntlet, but in spite of their exhaustion, they’ve become closer than ever rallying against it. They’ve become closer with Cas too. It seems like for the _first time_ , they are truly a united front. No secrets, no plots behind one another’s backs. Everyone knows _everything_ and they’ve been able to come into this as _one_ , pooling all their strength … but it _still_ might not be enough.

          The dreaded thing is waiting for them when they make it inside the warehouse, _morphing and twisting_ … a mess of snarls and snapping flesh. It takes on many forms as the hunters and the angel charge forward, weapons ready: Jessica, their mom, their dad … Lisa, Ben, Jo, Ellen … _Bobby_ ; making each one of them hesitate just a moment before they take their shot, allowing for the monster to slip away again. The run around seems to last for hours, _and maybe it does_ , because soon- Sam and Dean are panting and collapsing to the ground, crawling back up again just to throw weak punches, all while Castiel rages on in the attack.

          Then the thing _laughs_.

          It’s been _playing_ with them. Dean knew it would, but he also thought they were at least wearing it down, but really … they hadn’t even made it stumble, and the thing is having the time of its twisted life just watching them dance. _Enough is enough_. This has to end. Nothing has ever been stronger than this … nothing has ever been a bigger threat. Lucifer—the angels, leviathans … they could do irreparable damage, but _this_ beast could wipe out existence as they know it. Not just on earth, but in heaven, hell … probably purgatory too. Nothing is safe. That much is obvious. Nothing is safe as long as this thing doesn’t get what it wants, and it wants _Dean_.

          Turns out, being a soul touched by God—being a soul touched by the devil … a soul that has been both savior and demon. A soul that has seen death … _been_ death. A soul that has known the purity of joy, a soul that has known the depths of sin … a soul that has literally been _through it all,_ is _a rarity_. A soul like that is the key ingredient for a spell to _total_ control. A soul like that belongs to _Dean_.

          This _has to_ _end._

          “Fine … _enough_. Okay? Enough!”

          Sam gawks at his older brother, shaking his head weakly. His lips mouth “No … please” but Dean ignores it.

          “I tried fighting you, and it’s obvious you can easily wipe us all out with barely a thought, so _fine._ You want me, have at it! Just leave the world out of whatever your fucked up plan is. If something like _you_ exists out there, then I’m sure plenty of other places exist for you to mess with.”

          The thing laughs again, taking the form of a lovely woman— _older_ , kind faced … not unlike one of the many friendly waitresses they’ve met on the road throughout the years. It’s a sight that’s comforting in spite of the obvious threat.

          Dean hates the thing all the more.

          All his anger and conflicting ease makes him unaware of the angel now at his side—unaware until Castiel takes a large step in front him, blocking Dean from the beast’s view.

          “ _Cas_ …” Dean says, pulling at his friend’s arm.

          “No, Dean.” The angel’s words are terrifyingly slow, and Dean halts himself—a deeply engrained habit from all the times he has known Castiel’s wrath. “I won’t let you near him.” He’s talking to their foe now, practically vibrating with rage—grace sparking at his fingertips.

          “You all are _so_ precious” the thing begins, sweet brown eyes dancing over each of their heads. “You think that I want him like _this_? You think I can do a _damn_ thing with him like this? If _that_ were the case, then I would have just snatched him up months ago when I found him. You and the tall one would have never been the wiser. You would have spent the _rest_ of your lives trying to find where your beloved _Dean_ went … and you would have _never_ found a trace.”

          Dean twists his face up, confused and scared as the pit in his stomach drops out completely. “What the hell are you talking about?” he grits out, taking a side step around Castiel, ignoring the protective arm the angel shoves at him.

          The thing smiles again, flicking its eyes to the side and suddenly, Cas is on the other end of the room, like he teleported there himself, but by the shocked look on his face— _he obviously didn’t._ The depraved thing walks in very close to Dean, humming softly while running a hand across his cheek. Dean doesn’t flinch, even though he wants to. “You silly, little boy. Your soul is no good to me as it is. _Sure_ … it’s marinated in all the finest spices and herbs, but it’s still missing something. If I took you before this last step, it wouldn’t have had that extra little kick that would make it _just right._ ”

          Dean closes his eyes and lowers his head, still not fully understanding, but knowing that the worst is yet to come.

          “ _That_ got your wheels turning, didn’t it, sweetheart?” the monster sings, still with a gentle hand on Dean’s face. “ _The truth is,_ I needed to run you all around with the two people you love most, make you fight and grow together, make you mend _every_ break in your relationships … turn you back into _true_ brothers and …” it tosses a glance back to Castiel, who’s still frozen a dozen paces behind them “ _Friends_ , in order to make this next process effective.”

          Dean stays quiet, wishing to God they had _kept_ running … but of course, it was _his_ bullheaded plan to finally face this thing. If they kept running, he could have had more time. They could have possibly escaped this, but they didn’t, and by the way this thing is talking … it’s going to be much, much worse than he expected. It will be far more than just _his own_ death.

          “What process?” Sam is finally chiming in, pulling himself upright once more and coming up to stand next to Dean.

          The thing looks up at the younger Winchester—its fake, kind eyes suddenly darkening as its grin widens. “A soul like his is still locked up if it has devotion holding it together … devotion to _family_ … _friends_. I can’t get in until that lock is broken.”

          If it would help at all, Dean would punch the bitch … but he refrains, even though the idea of this monster purposely strengthening his bonds with Sam and Cas just for its own fucked up recipe, makes him want to vomit. He was actually stupid enough to think things were just _finally_ getting better.

          “Honestly, until I give our adorable, little Dean here a choice … he is really no good to me at all.”

          The two men and the angel all stare at the thing, none of them daring to ask the question on each of their tongues … but the terror knows it’s there anyway.

          “So, we may as well get to it, shall we?” The beast takes a step back, lifting its hands away from Dean’s cheek—and almost _instantly_ , Sam and Cas are there, at either side of it, stalk still and hovering above the ground with the monster’s will.  “So Dean … who will it be?”

          Dean gasps and then swallows hard, looking at the frozen shapes of his baby brother and best friend—nothing moving but the fear in their eyes.  He shakes his head, barely audible when he breathes out the words “No … _I won’t._ ”

          “You will …” the thing responds sweetly, just before looking up at Sam and grinning—then a piece of flesh along Sam’s arm starts to peel away. The man cries out, strangled and hoarse through still frozen lips, but to Dean, it’s the cry of an infant, scared in his crib— _flames_ reflecting in his eyes.

          “Stop!” Dean shouts, trying to jump forward but he finds that he can’t move either.

          “Not until you choose, Dean. Who will live? Sam or Castiel?” The thing turns to Cas now, twitching its head a little and all of a sudden, Cas is seizing … feathers are flashing into sight … eventually falling to the ground—blood staining their tips.

          “ _Please_ ” Dean breathes—his face stoned with horror.

          “If you just hurry this along, Dean … their suffering will end.”

          Sam’s right leg begins snapping, blood and bone shards stabbing through his jeans. The younger brother’s face turns white with the pain.

          “ _Sam!_ ” Dean cries, anger and fear drowning everything in him.

          “This is _nothing_ yet” the monster gloats, “Wait until I start removing organs … or _divinity_ in this particular case.” It turns its head back to Castiel and then peeks over to Dean as the man falls to his knees—the only movement he seems to be capable of. “Did you know that every angel has a song, Dean? Not so much like they _sing_ or anything, but each one has heard God’s voice in its infancy … and that is what gives angels their strength and their ability to see and know beyond the reach of any of his other creations.” A loving smile curls across the thing’s lips as it gives a shrug to punctuate the knowledge. “And it _really_ hurts when that song is taken away.”

          An ear piercing scream rings out as Castiel’s body contorts and wretches—bones breaking across every inch of him—a soft, white light finally seeping from his mouth. The angel looks nearly dead once the last bit drips to the floor.

          “ _No_ … Cas …” Dean breathes, his heart feeling like its being incinerated inside his chest.

          “Have we made a decision yet?”

          “You can’t make me do this!” Dean is pounding a fist into the ground. “Please! Don’t make me do this!”

          The monster turns to him fully, softening its face as it crouches towards the man on the floor. “But sweetie … _I have to_.” And with that, Sam’s stomach tears open, blood and entrails spilling out onto the concrete.

          Dean pales at the sight of his little brother, the person he’s grown up protecting and sacrificing himself for—the _whole_ purpose to his life, the only one he ever did even remotely right by, is dying now in front of him _… because of him._ “Stop!” he screams, panicked and defeated. “ _Stop!_ It’s Sam! I choose Sam!”

          As he blinks, his baby brother morphs from the mutilated, broken mess that he was, into a recognizable, whole human once more—Dean doubles over with relief, only to lurch again with the gravity of what he’s just done. He can’t look up— _doesn’t want to_. He can’t bear to see Cas now, see the disappointment, _the hurt_ , the betrayal in his eyes—Dean just can’t face it.

          “I need you to look up now, Dean.” The monster has moved in closer, pressing light fingers to his chin, drawing his face up, but Dean’s watery eyes still avoid the bloodied angel floating just off to the side. “The only way this will work is if you _see_ the choice you’ve made.”

          Tears fall steadily down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “Please, don’t _… don’t take him_.”

          “I am only doing what _you_ have willed, Dean. _I’m_ not taking him— _you are_. _You_ did this … now look at him and _remember_ that.” The monster backs away once more and Dean tries to turn, but finds, his head is being forced in the direction of Castiel. He bites his tongue, tasting blood as he awaits the sad look in his angel’s eyes, but when green finally meets blue, all Dean sees is _understanding_ … and it’s worse than all the disappointment in the world.

          Light bursts all around them—deafening rings and shrill cries fill the room, but Dean can’t even cower— _can’t turn away_ , because the moment it all fades, Castiel falls to the floor—eyes lifeless, _body limp_.

          Everything inside Dean ends in that moment, coming to a screeching halt at the sight of his dead best friend—his guardian, _his angel_. With a final gasp, Dean drops as well, curling into himself and shaking … lost to the world, unable to see anything except unmoving blue.

          “What did you do to my brother?” Sam screams, finally freed from the thing’s grasp, but still unable to get close to it—being kept at an invisible arm’s length.

          “ _Shh_ , Sammy … I didn’t do a thing. _You see,_ he did this to himself. I gave him a choice between his blood and his heart, and he chose _blood_.”

          Sam gawks, eyes wet as he bends down to try and shake Dean back into consciousness, but Dean won’t stop staring at his dead angel.

          “Dean! Wake up, please! Dean!”

          Another tinkling laugh skips through the air, finally causing the younger Winchester to tear his eyes away from his brother, glaring at the monster as it draws near. “Sam … you _have_ to understand, he’s not even _Dean_ anymore … he sacrificed the one he loved for _you_. All he is now … _is broken_.”

 

> _Camera zooms out.  
>  Credits roll._
> 
> _Fade to black._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at: Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me
> 
> Check out the rest of my Ao3 for more Destiel and Cockles angst, fluff and smut!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Choice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926690) by [Hannah_ruth_990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_ruth_990/pseuds/Hannah_ruth_990)




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